


Specks

by ShadowSelene (Shadowdianne)



Series: Cissamione [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 13:09:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17663246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowdianne/pseuds/ShadowSelene
Summary: "Narcissa teaches Hermione about art"A vague enough prompt made by a grey blob back at my tumblr also known as the amazing writer Naralanis





	Specks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Naralanis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naralanis/gifts).



> -The description of the National gallery is a mix of what I remember from the time I visited London and the few pictures and vids I’ve been able to find. Probably not perfect and one part of my fic writer persona is crying at but I implore clemency on that.
> 
> Also, insert here the usual disclaimer of I’m still learning to navigate through these characters so apologies for any OOCness.
> 
> PS: Slight mention within the story to another one shot I wrote titled “Halt”. Which, as a jibe to our tumblr situation of not being able to write NSFW I will merely describe it as lemon.
> 
> On with the story, shall we?

 

The museum was about to close, the echoes of quiet steps from the few people still walking through the maze of mixed big chambers and quiet corners a barely-there sound that Hermione didn’t truly pay attention at as she walked briskly to one of the smaller rooms; the lavender hue in where the walls were painted framing the paintings she passed by a blurr, the golden frames that supported each portrait a glimmer as she craned her neck; trying to find the blonde witch she had regrettably left behind a few minutes ago.

She found her staring at one small portrait, back facing her and hands grasping the long sleeves of the blouse she wore; perhaps just slightly closer to the wizarding world’s fashion than the muggle one but simple enough to not truly stand out in the middle of the Gallery. Smiling despise the slight soreness on her calves after wandering for so long inside the museum, the brunette witch approached the older woman, tilting her head just enough so she could get a glimpse of Narcissa’s profile; on the easy, yet small and soft, smile that curved her lips. Lips the brunette looked at for what felt the hundredth time ever since the woman had apparated inside her home a few hours ago; the shade of faded by obvious red the only thing she could truly focus on.

Until Narcissa rose the blonde brow she was able to see from her position and turned towards her, soft smile turning into an almost teasing one.

“Bored already?” The question held the same mirth-laced tone her expression conveyed, and Hermione found herself blushing just slightly, the heat on her cheeks rising and then fading as she swallowed, shrugging noncommittally as she approached the older witch with less brusque steps.

“I’m not bored.” She protested, but it was a feeble try and both of them knew. It was truly no secret that art, any form of it, wasn’t exactly something she admired. Not in the same capacity Narcissa obviously did. “I just didn’t think you would find muggle paintings so interesting.”

That, at least, was partially true. When Narcissa had mentioned the idea of a date like this Hermione had needed a few seconds to process. Not because she doubted Narcissa’s capacity to enjoy muggle-made things (that much had been proved the day after her elevator had broken and she had carried her to every other place she had been to think off that the blonde witch would enjoy) but because she had ingrained the notion that every portrait in the wizarding world moved quite deeply. Watching immobile paintings didn’t seem like something Narcissa Black would enjoy.

She obviously needed to re-check her facts because the blonde had been completely enamored by every other painting they had come across, pointing details Hermione wasn’t even able to focus on before her own mind pushed her to move forwards. Something that, back when she had been a child, had elicited a sigh from her parents more times than she was able to remember as she memorized the short lines beneath every other portrait before declaring she was already done.

And, despite the years passed, she seemed to still be holding on that habit as, after more than an hour of following Narcissa around she had found herself walking quicker between the rooms, paying attention to a few portraits here and there, glancing at artists, dates and the sparse descriptions before moving to the next one. Which had led her to finish way quicker than the woman she now had in front of her; almost immobile if it wasn’t because of the small knowing glint on her eyes, the trembling of her upper lip.

“But I do.” The older witch finally replied, raising her chin, pointing at the portrait she had been staring at before Hermione had found her. At some place at their back the brunette could hear the quiet whispers of a couple walking, probably towards the same direction she had just come from: The Exit. “Painting… or any other form of art really is just an interesting form of magic. Whether if the paintings are imbued with hexes or not.” The addition to her first statement made Hermione blush again, forcing her eyes to focus past Narcissa and the blue and black palette she had chosen for her clothes that day and gaze the painting on itself.

She was able to recognize it, of course; the title coming to her just a second before her eyes -majorly because of simply muscle memory- fell to the small note attached to it.

“The Arnolfini portrait.” Her mutter echoed between them, the quiet voices of the couple lost in the maze once more as Narcissa nodded approvingly, the movement causing Hermione to glance back at her; curious.

Of all the portraits the National Gallery had she would have never considered this one in particular would catch the other witch’s attention. She could remember someone -her mother perhaps? - telling her about the complexity of the portrait, the details hidden to the naked eye, the use of lighting and colors. Still, the scene presented to the viewer wasn’t really all that majestic if someone wanted her opinion; two people, man and woman, looking directly to them, hands intertwined.  

“Good memory.” Narcissa’s voice reached her from behind, the brunette realizing too late that the blonde had approached her, standing closer than before, slightly to her back. Her tone was but a whisper, the pitch soft and the words caressing her earlobe in the form of soft puffs of air. Despite her automatic try of masking her emotions on such a public place Hermione couldn’t help the automatic pleasurable shiver that run down her spine; the praising getting the best of her.

“Don’t do that.” She replied, and she could hear the chuckle from the older woman before a small nod close to her temple told her that Narcissa would stop the teasing; for now. Sighing, raising her shoulders a little with her eyes focusing once more in the portrait, Hermione read the date, the artist and the year the Gallery had bought it, her voice sounding much more colder than intended. Wincing a little, not really knowing where to look, how to look, at the portrait that had obviously entranced Narcissa, she glanced back to the older witch; completely at loss. “Van Eyck.” She repeated, the strong cluster of consonants sounding slightly off, as if her tongue wasn’t exactly rising in the right way, nor with enough force. “Didn’t he paint the Altarpiece? In Ghent?”

Chuckling but with a warm glint on her blue eyes, Narcissa nodded. “He didn’t do it alone.But yes.” She added, pressing her side against Hermione’s just enough for the brunette to feel her warmth through their clothing. A little trick that it didn’t matter how many times the blonde told her wasn’t produce of any hex or spell since she was convinced it must be an enchantment, a jinx, a curse even, of any kind. Taking a sharp gulp of air, feeling the scent of lilacs hanging around the immediate proximity of Narcissa, Hermione tried to focus on the portrait alone, on the objects that cluttered the space behind the couple; the mirror, the dog at their feet.

“I’m just not very good at this.” She admitted, with a dejected sigh but her somber attitude was quickly fixed by the touch of Narcissa’s left hand on her hip, guiding her to the closest spot in front of the portrait without crossing the small line marked a few inches away from it.

“You are very good at picking details.” The blonde said, still close enough for her voice to caress Hermione’s neck as they both stood in front of the painting, the fact that they had minutes at best before they were asked to leave a fading memory in the younger witch’s mind.

“I prefer things that I can quantify.” The Gryffindor replied, and it was true of course; magical laws, arithmancy, transfiguration. All of those skills were easy for her to pick, to use, to understand. Two plus two would always equal four. Art, however, was different; more fleeting, less obvious, and while the brunette could admit that the portrait felt life-like in a very different way magic portraits looked, she couldn’t truly understand the catch behind it, the importance that the portrait had.

 _“Qui desponsari videbantur per fidem"_ The blonde’s voice sliced through Hermione’s musings and made her rise her brows, curious. Narcissa’s Latin was, obviously, flawless, but the brunette needed a few seconds to translate the phrase, Latin not being exactly something she used all that much if one didn’t count the spells she used.

“Marrying according to the faith?” Her voice rose, not entirely sure if she had picked the subtleties of the language. The slight nod from Narcissa, one that made the blonde’s hair brush against her skin, made her hum, curious.

“There are theories.” The blonde spoke, her hand still at Hermione’s waist, fingers drawing circles as she spoke, lazy slow caresses that made the brunette bite her bottom lip. “That say that this portrait wasn’t only a portrait but a marrying contract.” Smile widening, Narcissa pointed at the portrait with her free hand, her fingers at the level of the headdress of the painted woman. “However, a non-married woman -one that is about to be married- wouldn’t have had her hair like that; she would have it down.”

“Oh.” Despite her initial weariness, Hermione couldn’t help herself on feeling interested by this sudden piece of information, her eyes focusing now on the position of the hands, on the way the man looked directly at them while the woman didn’t as much, on how everything was positioned, on the manner the other hand of the woman had been painted. “So, they were already married when this happened?”

A chuckle and Narcissa stepping away made her glance at her back, confused.

“That’s the mystery.” The blonde replied, a wink on her azure eyes. “Shall we go? I had the impression you were bored.”

Grumbling good-naturedly but following the blonde nonetheless, Hermione casted one last glance to the portrait they were leaving behind, a few pointed glares of some guards the walked past telling them they were cutting it close already.

“I guess art is not as boring as I thought.” She admitted once they finally reached the main hall, glancing at Narcissa as the blonde grazed the back of her hand, clasping it in a far too light touch, letting Hermione being the one who rotated the wrist, so they could intertwin their fingers together.

 “I can always try to paint you. See if that makes it more interesting to you.” Narcissa’s salacious remark elicited yet another blush in who knew how many minutes. One the brunette was quick to respond with a light yet quick slap on the blonde’s forearm.

“I knew we shouldn’t have watched Titanic.”

Narcissa rolled her eyes good-naturedly before grasping Hermione’s offending hand between her own, a quick kiss on the brunette’s knuckles buying her time as they, finally, walked outside the Gallery, the quickly losing light creating long shadows around them both as lamps blinked; pools of light deterring the blobs of black.

“I didn’t say I planned on painting you naked.” The blonde’s chuckled, a little more airily. “But if that’s your wish…”

“Cissy!”

 

**Author's Note:**

> -Waves from their rock. - Some of the details in the Arnolfini portrait were extracted from the notes I took back when I studied History of Art The theory behind the portrait, however, is a mix of what I remember being told by a friend and some lines in a Wikipedia article. So, I apologize if there’s some inconsistency there.  
> (The translation that appears there was slightly tweaked by yours truly though, yes, it's not perfect. Let's stick with the fact that Hermione doesn't need to have her Latin fresh)
> 
> Ok! Back to my writing niche! 😉 Also, I’ve made a series on my account, so you can find all the stories I’ve written for this pairing in a much easier fashion since I’ve posted some under my first pseud and others under my second and things were getting difficult to track Xd
> 
> Name’s Shadowdianne on practically everywhere; I’m always open to prompts in case you might want to drop some on my lap!


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